


What the storm brought

by Beleriandings



Series: Nargothrond and Beyond [8]
Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-04
Updated: 2014-12-04
Packaged: 2018-02-28 04:55:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,652
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2719463
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Beleriandings/pseuds/Beleriandings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the night, Maedhros and Maglor receive an unexpected visitor who could not stay away.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What the storm brought

**Author's Note:**

> Set in my usual ficverse, in which Celebrimbor spends the time between the sack of Nargothrond and his abrupt reappearance in canon sometime during the second age at the Havens, at the court of Gil-galad.

The rain lashed down on Amon Ereb, painting the whole world in greys and browns, when the cloaked figure came trudging out of the woods. It was near dark, and the watchfire sent the heavy raindrops hissing upwards as steam, so the traveller had come almost to the very gate arch itself before the archers on the wallwalk had scrambled to their feet, nocked and drawn.

“Who goes there?”

“One who would see your lords Maedhros and Maglor. I am their close kin.”

The archers looked at one another uncertainly, squinting at the figure through the rain.  _Close kin? What kin is left to the sons of Fëanor?_

“I come as an envoy from the High King” said the traveller, which merely caused the guards to raise their eyebrows in disbelief.  _Where are the royal banners? And what kind of an envoy comes alone, on foot?_

The figure seemed to sigh, coming to a halt before the gate, and began to draw a sword from beneath his cloak. The archers tensed, preparing to fire, but after a moment he laid it on the ground in front of the gate. “I mean no harm. I will come before the sons of Fëanor weaponless.” A moment of hesitation. “This I swear. I only want to talk.”

——-

The stranger was already standing by the fire, back turned to the door, when Maedhros and Maglor came to the audience chamber where the guard had said their visitor had been set to wait.

Maedhros closed the door behind them, watching rainwater drip from the long cloak, dark and sodden. He felt a vague sense of unease at he watched the silhouette standing motionless in front of the flames. “And who comes to seek council with us, on such a rainy night as this?”

“You must forgive the manner of my coming. It would not… have served any of us for me to be known to have travelled to speak with you.” Slowly the figure turned to face them, drawing back the hood to reveal dark hair, silver eyes reflecting the firelight.

“Tyelperinquar” breathed Maglor, into the silence.

Their nephew inclined his head. “It has been a long time, uncle.”

Maedhros’ felt a jolt at the sight of that face, changed subtly over the years since they had last met – its lines hardened, set like stone - but still so starkly reminiscent of their lost brother Curufin and their father that the pain was almost physical.

“And why do you seek us now?”

A thick silence stretched out for a moment.

“I needed to ask…” Celebrimbor’s voice cracked a little, but he held his head high. His Quenya had a slight tang of an accent to it now, a little stilted as if from disuse. “My father. I have done your house a great dishonour, but I… I had to know. Is it true? Is he really…”

“Yes” said Maglor heavily. “He died in Menegroth, with Tyelkormo and Carnistir. I… I am sorry.”

Celebrimbor swallowed and nodded, gritting his teeth. “Thank you for at least telling me that much.”

“Curvo called you a traitor, in his anger” said Maglor quietly. “But you are still our nephew. We owe you the true telling of it, at least.”

“I… I expected as much, from my father” said Celebrimbor. “I wish it could have been that he and I had not parted on such terms.” Another silence.

“The guards tell me” said Maglor, breaking the hush when it started to grow stifling, “that you claimed to be the envoy of the high king.”

Celebrimbor looked a little uncomfortable. “I have spent the last few years at the court of King Ereinion, it is true.”

Maedhros felt a bitter smile tug at his lips, as realisation crept over him. “He doesn’t know you’re here, does he?”

“No” admitted Celebrimbor. “The part about being sent as an envoy was just a ruse to get past the guards. But I had to see you. I had to  _know_.” Suddenly his face went dark with suppressed anger. “I was northward along the coast of the mouths of Sirion when we heard of the attack, with the king. He had not even warning enough to send armies, but if he had known…” he broke off, taking a long, steadying breath. When he spoke next, his voice was bitter. “At first, I could not believe that you would do such a thing. Now though, I wonder why I doubted it.”

 _He is under our roof_ , thought Maedhros, _and yet his anger is enough to say such things to our faces. He has grown._  The quiet, compliant nephew they had known was gone, scourged away by grief and pain, replaced by an unknown quantity.

“And if you had been there” said Maedhros carefully, “pray tell me, nephew, which side would you have fought on?”

Celebrimbor looked between them, meeting their eyes in defiance. “Do you think a single day passes when I do not ask myself that question?”

For a long moment, no one said anything. Maedhros did not know how long they would have stood like that, if it were not for the door of the room being thrown open, and two small bodies hurling themselves at Maglor’s legs.

“Maglor! Maglor!” shrieked Elros, tugging at Maglor’s hand. “Read us a story?”

Elrond pulled at his other hand. “Please?”

That broke Maglor out of his reverie, and he leaned down to the twins’ level. “Later, dear ones” he said, switching smoothly to Sindarin and stroking Elrond’s hair even as Elros tried to throw himself into Maglor’s arms. “Off to your rooms now. We have a guest.”

Maedhros turned to look hastily at Celebrimbor, who was staring at the twins with an expression of mingled fascination and horror. “So it is true what they say” he murmured under his breath, still in Quenya. The twins looked on, uncomprehending, but their small faces were twisted with worry. Celebrimbor was glaring at Maedhros and Maglor again. “You kidnapped Elwing’s children? Really?”

Maedhros drew himself up a little taller, glowering back at his nephew. “They had no one else.”

“Yes” said Celebrimbor, outrage building in his voice, “because you - ”

“ _Nephew_ ” interrupted Maglor in Quenya once more, extricating himself from the twins and rising to his feet, his voice cutting like steel. “This is not a conversation for my wards’ ears. They understand more than you know; I have been teaching them. Perhaps we may have this talk  _later_.”

“Oh, I don’t think we need to have this talk. I think I understand well enough.”

The twins gripped his hands in frightened silence, as Maglor and Celebrimbor stared at each other, battling with their gazes.

At last Celebrimbor broke eye contact, and sighed, looking down at the twins. He looked up at Maglor, as though asking permission, and Maglor nodded shortly.

Celebrimbor got down on his knee before the children. “Hello, young… cousins” he said in Sindarin, his voice faltering the merest fraction. “It is a pleasure to meet you both. My name is Celebrimbor.”

“Pleased to meet you” said Elros, politely. He offered his arm to Celebrimbor, and they gripped forearms in the manner of greeting of the Falathrim. “I am Elros, and this is my brother Elrond.”

Elrond hung back a little, but gave Celebrimbor a shy smile. Then he frowned. “If you’re our cousin, why don’t we know you?”

“Ah, well, I am the nephew of your… guardians” said Celebrimbor. “And I am the half-first cousin once removed of your great-great grandfather Turgon, so that would make me…” he was frowning. “You know, you can just call me cousin.”

Elrond nodded, smiling. “You’re all wet, cousin” he said, brushing rainwater off Celebrimbor’s shoulder. “Did you not know it was raining outside? Did you travel far?”

“Quite far” said Celebrimbor.

“How far?” asked Elros, cocking his head curiously.

“From the shores of the sea.”

Elros’ face lit up. “Me and Elrond are from the shores of the sea, too.”

Elrond elbowed his brother in the ribs. “It’s Elrond and  _I_ ” he said, glancing up at Maglor. “Not  _me and Elrond_.” He turned back to Celebrimbor. “But he’s right. We’re from the shores of the sea too!” His face darkened for a moment, but then he smiled. “But now we live here, with Maglor and Maedhros.”

“And do you like it here?”

“I like it some” said Elros, thinking. “Maglor teaches us things, and we get to play outside, sometimes. Except not when it’s raining.”

“I like it” said Elrond, nodding decisively. “Maglor reads us stories.” He looked at Celebrimbor. “Do you know any stories?”

“I do know a few…” said Celebrimbor, looking hesitantly up at Maglor and Maedhros as the twins held onto his hands.

“Oh, please tell us!”

“Yes, cousin, tell us! We always get to have a story before we go to bed.”

Celebrimbor looked helplessly at Maglor and Maedhros, the discomfort clear on his face.

“I think” put in Maedhros quickly, imagining how he himself would be loath to spend a night under this roof if their circumstances were exchanged, “that Celebrimbor needs to return to his king before he is missed.”

Celebrimbor nodded, hastily. “I am sure we will meet again, sons of Eärendil. I will remember that you asked for a story though, and I will tell it to you the next time.”

Elros looked disappointed, but Elrond nodded gravely. “Do you promise?”

Celebrimbor looked solemnly between them. “Yes, my cousins, I promise.”

With that he got to his feet, pulling his hood back up, and inclining his head to Maglor and Maedhros at the door. “Fare you well, uncles. May the light shine on your paths.”

It was a formality really, a mere figure of speech, and yet Maedhros felt it like a knife to the stomach.

“And you. Farewell, nephew” said Maglor.

“May peace find you” said Maedhros.  _We owe him that much, at least._  


End file.
